Michele Jaffe - Minders

Flora raised an eyebrow. “Come on, don’t you want one more good makeout session with Pete?” She stopped herself. “Sorry, I forgot you only have eyes for Hot Curtis now.”

Sadie laughed. “Speak for yourself.”

Flora shook her head. “Catrina is more my type.”

“I’m afraid you might not be hers,” Sadie said apologetically. “I think she and Curtis are a couple.”

Flora waved that away. “For expediency, maybe, but not really. Trust me.”

Sadie wasn’t sure. She’d gotten lost the previous night on her way to dinner and ended up in the oval room with the Stas-Cases. She’d been walking the perimeter looking for corridor G when she heard voices and realized it was Curtis and Catrina talking.

As she came up Curtis was saying, “I’m simply suggesting we consider protection.”

“Protection,” Catrina sniffed.

Sadie stood rooted to the floor, unable to move.

“I don’t like it any more than you do,” Curtis said emphatically, “but we need to be careful. Minimize the risks. I want to make sure we’re safe.”

“I understand. It just feels like you’re pushing me away.” Catrina’s tone was measured and cool, but obviously it didn’t mean she didn’t care, just that she was thoughtful. Sadie wished Pete or her father could hear her. Maybe then they’d understand that not everyone oozed emotion.

Curtis was soothing. “You know that’s not what is going on. I’m doing this for us. And it’s only temporary.”

Snapping back into her conversation with Flora, Sadie said, “I overheard them talking, and they definitely seemed to be involved.”

“Maybe for now,” Flora said with a shrug. “Nothing lasts forever.”

Sadie laughed. “I’ll concede if you’ll tell me how to get to office D-210.”

Flora turned Sadie so she was facing the direction opposite the one she’d been about to walk in and said, “Go straight past three corridors and turn left. I’ll see you in the Survaillab for closing remarks.”

“If I find it,” Sadie said.

Flora’s instructions were perfect, and Sadie was pressing the admittance bell next to D-210 at exactly three o’clock.

The appointment had appeared on her TrackUPad that morning with no explanation, so she didn’t know what to expect. She felt a surge of pleasure when the door slid open and she saw Curtis sitting with his feet on a desk, in the middle of what sounded like a personal call.

“Just steer clear, that’s all I’m asking.” He motioned Sadie into his office. “This isn’t the time for one of your little games.”

His desk was sleek and modern in dark wood, the two low chairs facing it at precise right angles covered in buff suede. Three brightly colored old-fashioned tin wind-up toys in the shape of a tiger, an elephant, and a bear playing the cymbals sat on one corner of the desk, and a computer sat on the other. Behind it hung a framed vintage poster from the movie Metropolis . The space felt warm with a hint of edge, just like Curtis himself.

He gestured Sadie into a chair facing him as he got off the phone, then smiled an apology. “Sorry, family drama. How has orientation been? I don’t think I’ve been lucky enough to catch sight of you since that first day.”

Sadie willed herself not to blush and said, “Orientation has been somewhat disorienting, actually.”

He chuckled and rubbed the back of his neck. “That sounds about right. And I’m afraid I’m only going to exacerbate that.” His feet came off the desk, and he leaned across it toward her.

“Why?” Sadie asked, trying not to get distracted by the pleasantly subtle scent of his cologne.

“We don’t have a lot of time, so I’ll cut right to it. I’ve decided to start an elite program within Mind Corps, and I want you to be part of it.”

Sadie suddenly had no trouble focusing. “Elite in what way?”

“We’re selecting a few Fellows to be Minders for Subjects who have been tagged as high risk. Either they’ve been arrested and served time, or they’ve come close. By targeting them, we want to understand how crime can spread from an individual to blight an entire neighborhood. But Syncopy with these Subjects exposes Minders to strains others don’t face. So we’re only picking the best of the best.”

Sadie’s heart thudded against her ribs. “What kinds of strains?”

“These Subjects are more likely to repress their feelings and memories than deal with them. Repression is like a magician, using smoke screens and big spectacles to distract you from its secrets. That takes a lot of work, so these minds may be more unstable, more like living in a minefield.” He paused. “The other difference is that instead of being posted in an unfamiliar community, your Subject would be here in City Center. Only a half hour from your home. Which means we would need to rely even more heavily on your maturity and integrity.” He leaned back. “What do you think? Would you be comfortable with that?”

City Center.

Impressions from her photography class trip flooded Sadie’s mind. She remembered passing houses, stores, and skyscrapers that had been completely abandoned, whole neighborhoods silent except for ghostly wind; other streets so densely packed with people that the sidewalks spilled into traffic and the intersections became a matted knot of cars and people, the air thick with curses and honking.

Their bus had gotten caught in one of those intersections, and Sadie was staring out the window when a fight broke out between two guys. A clot of people formed around the fighters, and between the heads of the crowd, Sadie watched them pound each other. Raw, visceral energy came off them in waves so potent that she’d felt them even through the double-paned window of the bus, making every sensation, every color, more intense.

What would it be like to experience that firsthand? she asked herself now. The sensation of knuckles cracking against bone, of fury overriding all reason, of being filled with so much powerful emotion.

She remembered the beautiful ruin of the building they’d photographed earlier that same day. Remembered standing on the edge of the seventeenth floor and forcing herself to look down, fingers of panic closing around her throat, making her struggle for breath, petrified with fear.

Not, as she’d told Curtis in her interview, because she was afraid of falling. That was a lie.

It was jumping she was afraid of. Becoming so numb she didn’t care any longer.

Now, sitting in Curtis’s office, she realized she was nodding. She said, “Yes. If you’re asking would I be willing to go through Syncopy inside the mind of a criminal, the answer is yes.”

Curtis held up a hand. “A potential criminal. Not hardened, not yet, but still the kind of person I’d tell you to steer clear of if you were my sister. I want to be certain you really understand what I’m asking. This person will be almost your exact opposite. Someone with no respect for rules or laws, possibly no code of conduct or loyalty, and very likely a disordered internal landscape. There’s a high probability of violence. Are you sure you’re prepared for that?”

“Absolutely.”

“Details will be crucial. To understand the hidden power dynamics of City Center, we’ll need you to pay close attention not only to your Subject’s internal Mindscape but also the external landscape. Associates, friends, enemies, the strengths and weakness of alliances.”

“Of course,” Sadie said. She hesitated for a moment, then blurted, “Why me?”

Curtis tented his fingers on his desk and locked his eyes on hers. “Because your father is wrong. You’re not too serious. You have a gravity about you, but that’s different. It’s what sets you apart. And why you are going to be so very good at this.”